


Hel, No Longer Forgotten

by bookish_cupcake



Series: Hel of The Forgotten [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_cupcake/pseuds/bookish_cupcake
Summary: A set of drabbles and oneshots related to an old roleplay. Archiving here due to taking the tumblr down.Not necessarily needed to be read with the rest of the series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Phil Coulson is based off a friend's rp of him. Phil is based of speculations before the third Iron Man movie and is not canon compliant. Her Coulson was resurrected by The Mandarin and is a sleeper agent for Thanos. He is also experiencing ice powers as a side-effect. Her (unactive) blog can be found here for more information. http://anicyresurrection.tumblr.com/
> 
> He eventually fell in love with Hel, who is based off the Norse mythos and not any Marvel incarnation.

**Druxy:  Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside.**

Coulson didn’t expect to wake up. The next few mornings, he wished he hadn’t. It was more than an “off feeling,” it felt downright wrong.

One morning, he woke up covered in a thin layer of ice. There was no goosebumps on his skin.

Sometimes, he blanked out. Hours would pass, and he would wind up without any clue to how he got there.

Like all good agents, he informed SHIELD of the ice and black outs.  SHIELD put him under paid leave, and he caught Agent Romanoff tailing him a few times.

Like men with few friends, he confided in Pepper his worries. Like Shield, she pointed out that he had been nearly killed by Loki which would explain his budding ice powers. Pepper told him a secret. Tony hacked into SHIELD. Coulson was definitely previously a corpse. Something brought him back. _Why_?

It came to him one night when he was attempting to stave off sleep. Norse Gods were real. If Eric Selvig was correct, then Loki had a daughter. Hel, the Goddess of Death. The problem was getting to her, if she even existed.

Coulson closed his eyes.

He dreamed of woman who skin was half pitch black. She sat on a throne of bones with a hellhound next to her.

“It has been a long time since any mortal called upon me seeking answer,” she said softly. “What do you desire?”

“You are Hel,” the agent said simply.

“Correct.”

“What is wrong with me?”

The goddess stood and walked to the agent. “I wear my curse on the outside. Yours is on the inside, scratching to get out.”

Coulson scowled. “Did you do this?”

Hel shook her head. “It’s time to wake up.”

Coulson woke up, and once more found himself wanting to go back to sleep.

**Wanweird: An unhappy fate**

Helheim exuded boredom. The dead were content with their afterlife, and Hel grew restless atop her throne. Then the agent entered her life.  He peaked her interest, and she continued to watch him. She occasionally visited his dreams, but he often forgot about her until their next encounter. Dreams were fickle like that. Yet she grew fond of the mortal’s company.

Many nights passed, and he stood in front of her throne once more.

“We really must find a different way to rendezvous.”

“I am not the one bringing me here,” he pointed out.

Hel wasn’t sitting at her throne. She was standing at a corridor entrance. “Come hither, darling agent, I had my servants prepare us a dinner.”

The agent blinked, his world went black, and he found himself sitting at a long table in a dining room. He lost time again. There was steak in front of him. He poked it with his fork, not trusting the foreboding meat.

“Darling, please go back to sleep and let the grown-ups talk.”

Coulson’s eyes glowed blue and puppeteer took back the reins. Hel conversed with the would-be god pulling the strings and deal was made. When Coulson regained control, Hel gave him a sad smile.

“I tried, honest, but you have a grief ridden fate ahead of you.”

 **Mamihlapinatapei**   **\- The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.**

Years passed, the Earth spun on its axis, and Coulson closed his eyes for the final time. Hel was waiting for him as she always did.

They weren’t in the castle, but at a bridge.

“Welcome to the afterlife.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Always to the point, my stoic soldier. When Thanos took control, it started eroding your soul. Under certain conditions, I was allowed to preserve it.”

“Conditions?”

“You died a warrior’s death; you should reside in Valhalla. You are fated to remain here until Ragnarok brews.”

Coulson shrugged. “Could be worse.”

She stared up at him, long and hard. She swallowed the words she was too afraid to speak. “Is that all?”

Coulson offered the Goddess his hand. “Shall we go spend eternity together, m’lady?”

An agent always knew how to make the best out of a bad situation. And well, who’s the say the situation was bad?

She locked her hand in his, and they journeyed to their home in silence. 


	2. Set 2

**Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.**

The legend goes that once a year that the Goddess of Death can walk among the living.

Coulson never believed in legends or myth until the New Mexico incident. After that, he allowed a smidgen of leeway in his “seeing is believing” philosophy.

For some unfathomable reason, a certain Goddess took interest in him.

It was the Halloween after the mishap in New Mexico. Pepper had invited him to the party hosted by Stark, and the puppy eyes did him in.

In the midst of noise, booze, and Stark-style debauchery, the agent saw _her_. She was dressed in a long black dress with an emerald cloak resting on her shoulders. As the lights flashed, the black dress tinted a green hue. He observed her; the woman with the least skin revealed caught his eye the most.

Whoever applied her costume makeup ought to work for the movies. Half of her face was nearly pitch black. The black extended down her neck, chest, and he saw that one of her hands was also black.

He noticed her approaching him, and he adjusted his suit jacket.

The music shifted to a calmer, slower song.

She extended her hand. “Dance with me?”

In the background, Coulson her Stark grumbling for someone to pump it back to normal.

The pair ignored them and started to sway to the older, mellower music.

The woman studied him; how his eyes darted occasionally to the exits, how aware he was of his surroundings, how he were a standard suit to a Halloween party. She lips curved to a smirk. She moved closer, her chin hovering above his shoulder. Yet she was careful for their unclothed skin not to come in contact.

“Ah,” she whispered, “the mortal who stood up to Father. It’s a pleasure to meet you Agent Coulson.”

Coulson immediately stopped dancing and reached for his gun.

She tsked. “Cannot kill who governs the dead, dear. Be a doll, would you? I only get out once a year, and I’m choosing you to spend it with.”

“I really shouldn’t be dancing with the Goddess of Death,” he pointed out.

“I don’t bite hard, oath to Odin.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“Or fun, maybe both. It’s all part of my charm. Now stop speaking of things you don’t know and dance with me.”

**Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone.**

Agent Coulson had a run in with death, a more permanent one compared to his previous encounters. When he closed his eyes, he honestly expected to see the goddess from Stark’s party. Instead it was a great sense of timelessness in an open white space. Then, because the perfect agent simply couldn’t stay dead, Coulson got resurrected.

There was a long story behind that, but it was Halloween again. Candy and costumes to replace the brooding and being used against his friends. He sat in sofa chair, ready to pass out candy to the next kids who ring the doorbell.

Then _she_ showed up on his doorstep with what he couldn’t tell to be a smirk or smile.

“Staring at my lips like that, Mr. Coulson?” Definitely a smirk. “What a naughty agent you’ve been since we last met.”

His breath got caught in his throat. The memories of being used against his friends, against Captain America, rushed back and— Oh. What was she doing?

“I was very disappointed when you didn’t come to see me after dying.” The slender fingers of her black hand touched the bare flesh of his neck. “Oh.”

“Oh? Excuse me, miss, but it’s best that you leave.”

He was ready to close the door, but a shiver traveled down his spine. Hel eyed him up and down with a carnal grin.

“Dear, I hadn’t been able to touch someone without them rotting in a very long time.”

Coulson loosened his tie and breathed because whoa. A goddess was coming onto him. If only Stark could see this. No, wait, that wouldn’t end well.

“Would you like some coffee?”

It took several nights (well, years) before Hel finally got what she wanted. The Halloweens that followed, Coulson found himself in the company of Hel.

**Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.**

Ragnarok neared. Hel felt it in her bones. She decided to spend her last Halloween with her favorite mortal. It had been several decades since they began whatever this was. She knocked, and he opened. Two glasses of wine in hand, ready for her.

She tried smiling.

Wrinkles, graying hair, and all the marks of an aging mortal. Oh, she would miss him. Would she remember him after being reborn?

He tilted his head, still sharp as ever. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, dear.” She took the glass and gulped down the contents.

Coulson set his drink aside. “That’s not nothing.” He took her empty glass and placed it next to his. “Please, tell me.”

Hel stared at him. Full of wanting. Not the want from nights ago. Not lust. She wanted to hold him and never leave.

“That night, years ago, the one with the horrid music, do you remember it?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly, still not understanding.

“Put on some music,” she said. “We’re dancing.”

As the music played, Coulson held Hel close as they swayed.

Morning came, and Hel never returned. Later that day, Coulson learned that Thor also disappeared. Each Halloween, Coulson sat alone in his house and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

# Drabble request: Hel and Coulson

Requested by [anicyresurrection](http://anicyresurrection.tumblr.com/). Such a shocker. :p It’s from this [list](http://heloftheforgotten.tumblr.com/post/37387565446/send-me-a-drabble-prompt). And, in case anyone is wondering, I’m still working on the kid fic. 

Actual drabble length! Kind of! Not related together like the last ones. Also, happy ones! :D

**Nocturnal: Coulson and Hel are up late at night**

The clock flashed 1:03 AM in neon green when Coulson woke up covered in sweat. Another nightmare. He rolled over, trying to reach Hel. Except she wasn’t there. A million alarms bells rang off in his brain. He nearly leapt of bed, gun seemingly from nowhere.

And then he heard laughter from the living room. He paused, wondering if he stepped into an alternate dimension. Very rarely had he heard Hel’s laughter. Ever the prepared (slightly paranoid after death) agent, Coulson kept his gun with him as he stalked quietly into the living room.

Hel was curled up in the sofa; blanket draped over her shoulders, and was reading a novel. She appeared to be like any other woman who managed to get caught up in a good read. Except half of her frail frame was pitch black, and she happened to govern the dead when not spending time with her favorite mortal. A rich smiled played on her lips as she continued to read.

“Phil dear, put down the gun. You look ridiculous.”

Coulson faltered but complied. Not sure what to say, he managed, “So, what book are you reading?” The cover was obscured by the blanket.

“Ah, it is one of your black comedies I believe. The main character appears to be a sociopath. I just love it.”

The blanket slipped down, and Coulson saw that it was Twilight.

**Deceive: Coulson lying to Hel**

Loki appeared one morning as Coulson brewed coffee.

On top of the angry, deranged vibe from their last encounter, the god had whole new level of _pissed off_.

“You will stay away from my daughter,” Loki stated in careful, precise words.

For some reason, the fear lessened in Coulson. _Oh_ , he thought _, one of these types of visits_. Angry fathers weren’t just a part of Midgard culture then.

“Your daughter is a respectable woman who can take of herself,” Coulson responded. “If anything goes wrong, I’m sure she will have no problem killing me.”

“If you bring her any sorrow or conflict, I will end your existence.”

Coulson decided not to point out that he failed at that already and watched Loki poof out of his kitchen.

A few nights later, when having dinner with Hel, she asked him how his week went.

“Same old, same old.“

**Phobia: Hel and Coulson discussing what scares them**

It was an early winter evening, and they were cuddled up on the couch. The television played a sitcom, but neither paid it much attention.

“Spiders,” Coulson said suddenly. “I don’t like spiders. The big ones scare me. What scares the Goddess of Death?”

Hel raised a brow at her beloved, deciding that the agent needed to stop drinking caffeinated hot chocolate. Yet she went along with it.

“Dying,” she answered softly. She wrapped her hands around her warm mug of hot chocolate, the sensation nearly scalding at her normally cold skin. “Where am I to go once I die?”

**Goodbye: Coulson watching Hel die**

Introducing Darcy to Hel was on the list of actions Coulson regretted. He liked Darcy, honest to God, he did. In fact, the two ladies hit it off swell. People still say swell, right? The problem wasn’t so much Darcy herself, but what she introduced to his (kind of?) girlfriend.

Over the past week, whenever Hel visited, she would play Super Smash Bros Brawl on the Wii Darcy lent him. For the past week, Coulson endured Hel screaming violently at the television whenever she died. She went as far as hurling a bolt of magic (?) at the screen, causing him to replace the television several times.

“I would think that you would be more accepting of dying,” he mumbled after the first occurrence.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, dear. Simply admiring your aim.”

**Shiver: Coulson and Hel trying to stay warm**

Coulson grew up in the Christian household. For a long time, he believed in Heaven and Hell. Working with Shield, witnessing a variety of things, caused Coulson to questions his belief. Yet still held on to that good people went to Heaven. Heaven was nice and sweet, and he probably didn’t have ticket. Hell is where the wicked resided; fire and brimstone.

Dying, being resurrected, and becoming infatuated with the Goddess of Death skewered his perspective on life and death.

Yet, still, coming to Helheim, he didn’t expect it to be so damn cold. Despite having ice powers thanks to his death, he still felt the chill nipping at his skin.

Telling Hel this, she laughed.

“We’re surrounded by the frozen wastelands of Niflheim. What did you expect?”

Yet she pulled him closer, and they shared her cloak.

**Intimate: Hel and Coulson doing some hot and steamy together.**

Coulson pressed her up against the wall; his tall, muscular frame leaning over her. Hel pressed her long, deceivingly delicate fingers against his chest. Just beneath the fabric of his suit, she felt the erratic thump of his heart. A wicked smirk played on her lips.

“You mustn’t consort with devils, Agent Coulson,” she chided.

“And we must not eat their fruit.” His cheek pressed against hers, and he purred in her ear. “I plan to taste and devour you, Lady Hel.”


	4. Chapter 4

# Giggles: Hel and Coulson

“ **Love Me** ” in my ask and I’ll write a  ** _fluffy drabble with our characters.  
 _**

It occurred after Thor’s and Jane’s wedding ceremony on Earth. 

Phil distinctly remembers the first time he heard Hel giggle. It wasn’t a demure laugh nor a chuckle, but honest giggling. Were powerful beings of her nature even allowed to giggle? Shouldn’t it have been written out of their DNA?

More importantly, it marked the first time Phil was brave enough to tickle the goddess. 

He may have a few mugs of mead beforehand. 

* * *

# Mourning Star: Hel and Coulson

 **“Mourn Me”**  in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about  _my character mourning your character’s death._

The day came when Phil died defending citizens during an attack, and Valhalla claimed his soul. Hel knew the pointlessness in fighting for it, tried anyways, and lost. He belonged in glory, away from Helheim.

Her realm rotted further into decay at its mistress’s anguish.

Many nights were spent atop the roof of her highest tower. She gazed up at the myriad of stars, searching. For which one was her beloved? Fruitless each night.

Ragnarok.

Her star entered the fray, white hot, shining in the heat of the battle. He blinded her, his blade piercing her half-living heart. And her dagger plunged into his.

They fell into space, together

* * *

 

# Lullaby: Hel and Coulson

-Leave a  **“Haunt Me”**  in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about  _ **my character watching over yours.**_ _  
_

Natasha asked Phil if he was okay. He had been more quiet, more recluse than normal for the past few months. No reply. Tired of lying, but can’t speak the truth. No one knew of Hel and him. Not Thor, nor Loki, nor S.H.I.E.L.D. And when Hel vanished without a trace, without good-bye, only Phil knew.

An odd thing occurred one night. The singing. Haunting yet serene, lulling him into a needed sleep. Each night, the ghostly voice visited. Calming. Soothing. Reminding him of Hel.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered before drifting off to a dream.

He dreamt of Hel.

* * *

 

# See You Soon: Hel and Coulson

-Leave a  ** _“Befriend Me”_**  in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about  ** _our characters meeting for the first time in an AU._**

****

Coulson visited the café, small and served savory pancakes. He was in New Mexico for classified reasons, following a few concerns after the Norse gods left. An Angel of Death, the rumors went.

A woman hadn’t stopped looking at him since he entered. He wondered if she knew he noticed her staring. Judging by scarlet smirk, she did. She paid for her strawberry milkshake, and headed to the door. Before leaving, she stopped by the agent’s booth.

“See you soon. Well, relatively speaking. Ta~”

As she turned, the lights flickered. Coulson never got a glimpse of the brief half-dead face.

She left behind the smell of death and cinnamon.

* * *

# Ruin: Hel and Coulson

“Shag Me” in my ask and I’ll write a dirty drabble with our characters.

Hel pressed Phil against the plush bed, a wide smirk on her scarlet lips. She straddled his hips, and her elegant fingers trailed down the line of buttons on his shirt. One by one, she plucked them apart.

“My dear agent,” she whispered, feeling the flesh around his scar.

Phil tugged down at the straps of her dress. The moonlight trickled in from his window, bouncing off the goddess’s naked top. She leaned over. Her lips brushed against his ear. His words got stuck in his throat. Instead, her voice dripped like honey.

“I will ruin you.”

* * *

 

 


End file.
